


mercury

by liamnoel



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Smut, dreams of domesticity, fluffy thoughts, liam's just a sex-crazed young man lol, stupid angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamnoel/pseuds/liamnoel
Summary: You gotta slide it off like mercuryCan I play my parts like mercury?Would you let me feel like mercury?Can I always be like mercury?1994





	1. friday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Letsmakeittonight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letsmakeittonight/gifts).



> hi!! wow did not expect to be posting on here right now? but i'm glad i am nonetheless! go figure, i've got a couple other stories in progress for months now yet i write this nonsense from scratch in a day... wtf
> 
> thanks a MILLION to @letsmakeittonight for motivating me to keep writing again, lol! looking forward to new stories from everyone else as always! i know it's quite the effort to even start. & thanks to the concept of a gallagher brothers mafia, because that's what led us to start chatting lol
> 
> this era has become really interesting to me: the period in early to mid-1994 when definitely was being recorded & just after its release, when oasis were becoming successful but not super famous yet. it's strange to think that a band can be touring around the world even though they're not that famous? anyway, i like the thought that they were suddenly a bit richer and starting to get their careers started, but they were still anonymous enough that i'm sure much of the time they could walk around without anybody knowing who they were. additionally, it's really hit me lately just how young liam still was during this time, i mean it's just unfathomable, that much of a dream life and he wasn't even 22. thats why he's a bit dreamy and naive in this. he was only a kid! there's no real timeframe for this story btw: it's not clear exactly when noel moved to london, but it's sometime before the end of 1994 and they've already started touring abroad (i believe noel lived in london around 2, maybe 3 months before liam moved down there as well)
> 
> this isn't a chaptered story in a long-form sense, but i was excited and wanted to get something up ASAP, so i broke it up a bit. i've got the second part finished and depending on what i include, it'll either be 3 or 4 parts total.
> 
> idk why my sentence structure has become so choppy and abrupt, hope its ok. i tried to fill this with the background melancholy that comes from being gay
> 
> title: MERCURY MAN by animal collective, a beautiful song about faraway love
> 
> enjoy!! comments are much appreciated as always xoxo

Noel has a flat in London now, a little place in a brick building in Camden. It feels like he’s a world away, and Liam knows he’s not, but it’s not their fault they grew up coach-class on an overcrowded island.

It’s only a handful of weeks into 1994 and they’ve spent most of it on the road abroad. Japan seemed similar to home somehow, big towers of people kept upright precariously surrounded by endless oceans. Whereas Europe became the most boring farm scenery one could imagine – much like America.

In the movies, people move across America often: to travel, or for work, family, or love. Liam had always found it quite amazing, as it took a fucking week to get anywhere while you were in the States. California’s coast alone is fifteen hours, so he  _almost_ feels guilty for feeling homesick right now, because Noel is only two hours and five minutes away. Two hours and five minutes away, always, every day.

It’s not much of a daunting trip; Liam’s traveled farther before, on a ferry to Ireland every summer since before he can remember. When he was little, Noel would sometimes hold his hand and smack kisses on his face, or sometimes he’d tickle him, making him angry and teasing that he’d throw his little brother in the sea until Liam cried and Noel was forced to back off. Paul didn’t like to get involved and their Mam had given up trying to pull them apart. Liam and Noel played their own game and they were alright, and everybody left them alone.

That’s pretty much how it stands today. This must be the reason why no one seems keen to the fact that they’re giving each other more attention than they should be. It’s as if Noel and Liam had always existed so closely, like they were allowed an exception to normal behavior just because everyone knew that’s how they  _were._

He remembers a time years ago, when he was still in school, that they’d all gone down the road to the O’Reillys’ house for supper. Peggy and Paul sat politely while Noel excused himself to the loo. He’d done a double-take upon seeing Liam in the kitchen on his way to the toilet. “Weren’t you supposed to be in ‘ere?”

“Lied. Came back to get more biscuits.” He’d grinned, molasses and icing on the corners of his lips.

“’Course you did.” Noel had smirked and seemed to have forgotten about his bladder, crossing the room to stroke Liam’s jaw. “You got a sweet tooth?”

“Yeah.” He’d let Noel kiss him lightly, just barely licking in to get a taste of his stolen treat. It wasn’t lost on him that on the other side of the wall were eight ordinary, respectable Catholics waiting for the two of them to come back in and eat their chicken like everyone else.

“We should…” wiping his lips, he doesn’t bother to finish, Liam knows what he means anyway.  _Everybody’s always waiting on us._

“Should- you should shove a bunch of those biscuits in your pockets, bring ‘em home for my dessert.”

Noel had laughed at that, his teeth were shiny and it made Liam giddy. “Don’t want crumbs all over me, do I? Besides, it’s hard enough to keep your head out of my lap already, like some kind of dog, sniffing around down there.”

“Fuck off.” Liam remembers how it had felt so good to laugh. The light was dim in the kitchen, Noel’s cold fingers were just barely touching his own against the countertop, and he wondered why they weren’t supposed to be together.

But then Mary O’Reilly fucked the priest and had a baby at seventeen, and there were no more stolen supper kisses and Noel was just glad it wasn’t  _his_ sin that would stick around that house when they moved away.

Liam’s never bothered to learn much about London. His whole life, it was this shining pillar of society and he couldn’t care less – London was supposed to be like Paris, like New York and Los Angeles and Tokyo and Rome. What does it matter when Manchester’s already got a great football team? The girls aren’t any particularly fitter anywhere else, and every inch of England looks the same to Liam. As his thumb’s scraping over the ink on his ticket the only thing he can remember about London is firstly, that he hates it, and secondly, that Noel’s a fucking cunt for leaving him.

(He’ll still come and fucking visit, though. If Noel’s there, it’s practically Liam’s flat, anyway.)

They were on the phone when Noel had invited him and it made his stomach feel funny. 

_Come and visit you?_

_Yeah._

_What- for how long?_

_Dunno. The weekend? Not like you’re movin’ in with me or something._  Liam’s heart had crackled a bit and he wished it wouldn’t.  _You’ll need to be down here eventually, I can show you ‘round._

_Yeah, alright…You gonna let me sleep in the fucking bed, though?_

(He would’ve slept there either way.)

Noel had sighed.  _We’ll see when you get here._

It’s a yes. Because it’s not a no.

 ☼☼☼

If Noel had asked him how long he wanted to stay, he’d probably have said two weeks. Even though this wasn’t  _his_ new flat, it kind of was, and Liam was intending to view the holiday through a filtered lens, how the couple should look inside the picture frame. He wanted it to be  _them_ moving out, not only  _him,_ wanted Noel to write new songs looking at the bricks in the wall, write new songs looking at Liam’s soft unscratched skin where he stretches on the mattress. The hiss of the coffee cooking in the pot and the water running down the porcelain from the showerhead should be one and the same; for the past two weeks, Liam’s fingers have gotten sticky and his eyes have crossed while he thinks about wearing a towel around his neck, dripping water on Noel’s shoulders while he kisses him over their kitchen table.

The cheese Danish he buys on the train is stale and tastes not quite right and Liam wonders if it’ll make him sick. He wonders how easy it’d be to hook up with a girl in the lavatory and laughs a little thinking about just how much it’d piss Noel off.

It was kind of a mystery to him – he knew girls liked him, could get them easily enough, ‘cos even if he was just as awkward and novice as the other boys around him, he looked damn good. Yet somehow he was allowed to have all that, andhave Noel, too. It didn’t really make much sense.

Noel should consider himself lucky that Liam’s interested at all. His good-looking younger brother has always had plenty of other offers.

Everything feels sticky or maybe it’s just the press of the window on his forehead. His eyelids are heavy. Last time they’d been so up-close, Noel had asked if he’d put eyeshadow on when he tilted his chin up. Liam scoffed because Noel was always doing that, always wanted him to be the pretty one, but this time he was  _serious-_ after that he’d asked if someone had punched him or something, but no one had. Liam’s not quite sure why his lids were stained light shimmery purple that day. Mam said it can happen from lack of sleep. The drugs probably didn’t help, either.

He hopes the window won’t discolor his skin. He needs to look good for Noel. It’s always been important to him – cool kids looked good, so he must look good. It made him feel nice about himself, smile when he looked in the mirror, to think that everyone would see how neat he was. Noel would hear about it, maybe. It used to seem pretty likely.

His Levi’s have been treating him well, hugging his hips and curving around him in a way he hopes Noel finds enticing. It’s not an intentional way of flirting, really, but it’s built-in. Liam’s always been trying to impress Noel.

Sometimes he wishes his older brother could draw; Liam had a friend in his last year at school, Tracy, with a rich boyfriend at art college and he drew pictures of her sometimes. Tracy said it made her feel special, the way he knew the shape of her lips; he would draw her features in the margins of his papers, bored notes and doodles. Some of them were more focused, larger pieces, even one that she’d made Liam promise not to joke about and finally showed him, where her hair was down and you could see her tits. Her boyfriend had drawn that, from memory, just for her. Liam had taken one look at it and then disrespected his art by kissing Tracy in her bedroom while the poor bloke wasted away his money on charcoals. He only wondered what pose Noel would’ve wanted to keep him in.

He wasted all his money on cigs and a snack today and so he’s in desperate need of water once the train’s getting near.  Liam finds himself unable to remember the plan – was Noel meant to meet him here? Does he have his address already? Where on Earth is his luggage?

The porter handles most of this, thankfully. Liam’s claim ticket is in his hand and his vision is foggy. His mouth feels mealy like an old apple and the strap of his bookbag is digging into his shoulder. His jeans are too loose, and fuck, who’s the guy on the bench down there, he looks like-

☼☼☼

“You’re late.”

“Not like I was driving the train or summat.”

“I’ve been here fourteen minutes!”

“Nobody made you stay.”

“Mm.”

“Well?”

“What?”

Liam shrugs.

“I like this scarf.” Noel plays with the end of it, pulling on the tassels. “Did Mam make it?”

“Yeah,” Liam lies. The yarn is a soft, mellow red; it belongs to Liam’s ex-girlfriend, and he knows it matches his lips.

“She didn’t,” Noel says, crooking up the side of his mouth and pulling his hand back. “Looks good on you, though.”

“You paying for my taxi or what?”

“Gotta get some coffee first.” Noel’s neck is pale where it stretches as he peers down the street and Liam wonders how it smells like in the crisp southern air.

“ _Coffee?_ ”

“Yes?”

“Since when d’you drink that? I got my suitcase and all, an’ you had your fourteen minutes just fine for doin’ all that-”

“No, no, I was busy.”

“With what?”

Noel smiles and even though it’s mostly a joke, it makes Liam gulp when he brushes a thumb over his lips. “Had to watch for you, didn’t I?”

☼☼☼

Liam runs over a woman’s toe in the café with the wheel on his suitcase and glares at Noel for it. His brother’s shades are placed perfectly enough to look away, and he can catch the pink of his tongue when Noel laughs.

☼☼☼

Noel’s front door is tiny, narrow enough Liam has to rock his suitcase back and forth to fit it through. The rest of his place is much the same: radiators pressed tight to walls, cool air shuffling between bricks, everything stacked teetering or too close together like the whole place could be flattened with a sneeze.

“Well?”

Liam smiles and tilts his head. “What’s half the rent?”

☼☼☼

“Have you lot been practicing?”

“Yeah. Well- yeah.” Tony doesn’t always turn up, and usually when Noel’s not there, they drink instead of playing the songs, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“What?”

“We have.”

“Liam…”

“We have!”

“Why’d you say it like that, then?”

“We didn’t do it every day like you said. But  _I_  do sing every day, though. Like, when I get up, whenever I’m doin’ anything.”

“How’s it sound, then?”

“You know it’s not the same without you there.”

“But are they getting it down?”

“Yeah! Fuck’s sake, man, course they are. Not that fucking hard to anyway. “

“Alright.” Noel ruffles Liam’s hair and turns the volume up on the match. “God, hope they take this one on penalties.”

“Hey, d’you know that girl Eileen?”

“Who?”

“Lived ‘round the corner, Mam was friends with hers, right. Well, turns out, she went and got pissed with a bunch of workers in Didsbury last week. Got knocked up by one of ‘em, now he’s comin’ ‘round lookin’ for her-”

The whistle blows and Noel glances at him. “What?”

“You didn’t hear me?”

“No. Wait, gotta-” Noel turns back to look at the television while Liam’s eyebrows lower.  
“I just told you the whole fuckin’ thing.”

“Well I’m watching something! You can tell me after.”

“Fuck  _after,_ s’not that important.”

“No. You’re right! It’s not. So why should I bother listening?”

“You’re going to sit around ignoring me here?”

“Fuck’s sake, Liam, will you have your food and just watch the scores? It doesn’t matter, we  can talk after.”

“You think nothing I say matters!”

“Didn’t fucking say that.”

“You do.”

“I’m fucking serious. You  _just_ sat down, Liam, don’t fucking pull this now.”

“I’m just, like, thought I came here so you could talk to me, not the telly.”

Noel puts his plate on the floor with a clatter. “Is this what you want to do? You want to fucking walk in and start fighting after twenty fucking minutes?”

“I don’t, I, I’m I- I- I- just, like, want to know that you fucking care, or something, like you’re fucking listening-”

“Liam.” Noel shakes his head, breathing out instead of in, holding his brother’s face in his palm. “Slow down. We don’t have to fight.”

“Noel,” he pleads.

“We don’t. S’okay.”

Things aren’t the same in London. The dark corners of their childhood home seemed to grow endless cobwebs that drew in the dark bits of whatever they could grip onto, never satisfied. That house had seen every iteration of sin so many times before that it couldn’t distinguish between them anymore. It’s different here. Only two weeks of Noel’s dust has gathered here so far, and he’s desperate to keep Liam fossilized in this perfect slice of time.

He smiles softly, pulling back so Liam can see. It’s that fucking easy sometimes, he wonders why the two of them don’t drop the whole production sometimes and just let it go instead of fighting and fighting and letting that resentment dry into something that could become permanent.

“Okay.”

Noel’s windows face west and they let in a warm rush of afternoon sunlight. It turns Liam into melting honey and he hopes he doesn’t seem stupid for how lovedrunk he feels. He sucks Noel’s bottom lip into his mouth, hoping he’ll just give it to him easy.

“Fuck,” he breathes shakily, trying to find the button on Noel’s jeans as quickly as he can.

“I’m- I’ll put some music on. Stay here.” Noel pulls back and Liam can feel the loud  _smack_ their saliva makes when he darts down the hall. Noel gets these compilations sometimes, maybe old playlists from club promoters or something, amazing sets of songs collected together onto one album. When he’s not fucking Liam to Beatles albums, it’s these ones, old rock hits and new stuff too, Bowie, the Mondays, the Who, songs with deep basslines that Liam’s never heard before. He’s back in a split second, shirt quickly hitting the floor as he pushes Liam down onto the bed.

“Noel,” Liam whispers reverently, not bothering to hide his smile.

“I’m here.”

“I like it here.”

“Do you?”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“I’m gonna fuck you.”

“Can I- how loud-”

“You can be as loud as you want.”

The last apartment Noel had was actually his and  _Louise’s_. As were the things in their home – some of the dishes were Louise’s, the soaps, the posters and art on the walls. There were always towels Liam wasn’t supposed to use and tapes he wasn’t supposed to watch. It was different here. Everything in this home was  _Noel’s._

_Including me._

It’s been four and a half weeks since the last time, and Liam knows there’s no way he’s stretched enough. It’s not like he spends each night before a reunion with his fingers in himself to reacclimate to the feeling. But he’d done it a little bit that morning anyway, and maybe because he was in the shower with a hard dick already, so whenever Noel finally gets around to taking his jeans off, he’ll get to see a little of the work’s already been done.

“Noel,” he murmurs, unable to resist biting into his bottom lip. “C’mon.”

His brother kisses him rough, dragging the edge of his thumb down his chin and neck, down further. “Tha’s it… open up.” Liam whimpers while their tongues touch briefly, eyes opening to gaze into Noels’. “You want it?”

Liam smiles fully and lets his eyes slip shut again. “Yeah.”

Every tortured touch of Noel’s fingers against his skin makes Liam itch, needing so much relief he’ll never get. Noel takes his time, undoing each button carefully so he doesn’t pull on the worn thread. Finally, Liam is left lying on his back on Noel’s blue blanket, nothing on but his jeans. He feels fragile, like Noel could make him fall apart with only his eyes. He lets his knees knock together shyly and Noel just pushes them back apart.

“Love you,” Liam whispers.

“I know.”

Noel runs his hands down slowly along Liam’s sides, letting his thumbs make small circles, admiring the dark hair starting to grow down the center. “You look fuckin’ amazing, you know.”

Liam bites his lip and grins. “I know.”

“All for me.”

Their hands meet, reaching to rid Liam of his jeans, then Noel with his as well. Liam gasps a bit dramatically when he sees it.

“Forgot how big it was?”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me if it hurts.”

(It always hurts a bit but Liam rarely says so.)

Noel’s cock looks in need of serious help. Liam know he isn’t dating anyone right now but he’s clearly put off wanking as well, looks like he hasn’t been touched in over a week.

It’s hard, foreskin reaching nearly to the tip, clear liquid dripping out. Liam can’t hide his shy smile as a drop falls onto the back of his palm, bringing it up to his mouth to let Noel watch him lick it up.

“How is it?”

“Not enough.”

“You want more?”

“You’ll come too quick. Think you’d better fuck me.”

“If you say so,” he laughs. “Get your legs up.”

Liam sighs a little bit, hearing his own desperation as Noel tugs his jeans down all the way. He feels so dirty lately. Everything’s dirty lately – last week he’d stepped on a tack in his bedroom and his toe bled so much he’d had to throw the whole sock away and it’s kind of how he feels right now. He lets his legs fall open and Noel laughs warmly when he feels what Liam’s been hiding from him between his thighs.

“Did you touch yourself for me this morning? Before you left?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t enough, was it.”

“No.”

“No. But I’m here now, baby.”

Liam laughs breathlessly, can’t help himself, is fucking so  _ready._ “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He lets himself go limp, lets Noel move him around and position them however. He only wants to see the sun manipulating every angle of Noel’s body, if that’s possible. It doesn’t matter where they start.

The lube inside is enough for two of Noel’s fingers. He’ll have to get his own from the nightstand eventually, but for now, Liam’s done the job for him. He strokes slowly, only making sure Liam’s stretched enough to accommodate him.

Pulling his fingers out, he strokes Liam’s cock against his own for a few seconds then finally,  _finally_ moves down to get himself in place.

“Fuck. Yeah, yeah.”

Noel’s hands are shaking against Liam’s wrist and the back of his knee while he gets himself situated inside. His eyes might as well have rolled back into his head at this point.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, that’s it, Liam.”

“Fucking- yes.” Liam smiles. “God. Finally, you cunt.”

“I like you being here.” Noel starts thrusting into him slowly, letting Liam adjust to his size. “You really waited for me, didn’t you?”

“’m not a fuckin’ liar, Noel.”

He’s so tight and they both know it’s not enough. He’s so dirty and they both know it’s all too much.  _Everything you touch gets dirty._   _Everything you love gets dirty._ He had to throw out a kitchen sponge when he found maggots writhing in the tomato sauce on the edge. He wondered what stage of decomposition him and Noel were in, and none of it really made any sense, because the thought of maggots made his stomach ache but when him and Noel were together it was sick, sure, but  _beautiful_ even still, nothing like the filth of rotting food. What they do is dirty, but Liam doesn’t think that it’s so bad. It just makes no sense at all.

Noel groans out broken words while he fucks himself further into Liam, like he’s suffering, and Liam’s heart fucking  _aches_  with want for his big brother and he hugs him with his legs, closer, closer, closer,  _please love me back._

“ _Fuck,_ Noel.”

“Fuck.”

“Mmmmm, oh God-”

“Yes- Liam-”

“I can’t go without it.”

“Mmph-”

“It’s like- I tried, like you used to say, back years ago. I  _tried_ but it wouldn’t go away. I need this.” The younger boy frowns and pulls his lip up behind a tooth. “Nothing else is enough.”

“Don’t say that.” Noel’s voice is thick like syrup and Liam moans for it. He whines when Noel’s cock rubs at his prostate. 

“Yes- that’s it. Fuck. Alright.”

“You’re so good.”

“Kiss me. Please. You cunt.”

Noel leans in and they both close their eyes. His breath smells like mint. Liam leaks spit into his mouth and wonders if Noel’s cells consider it foreign. Sweat used to be anonymous but it’s not anymore. If they both bled out now, nobody would bother deciding which drops belonged to who.

He thrusts even harder and Liam groans for him, asking for more, and now it’s back to their usual rhythm, rough fucking and panting and begging while the record drones on and on from the living room. Sweat has already stained the blanket beneath them and Liam belatedly wishes Noel was still wearing his soft blue button-down from earlier, but the hair on his chest is softer, anyway.

“Do you like London?”

“I like being in London with you.”

They both know he didn’t answer the question but they don’t have to talk about it right now.

☼☼☼

Liam’s always the first to come, always the first to fall asleep. Noel smiles while he palms his brother’s jaw. There’s a happiness lingering there, visible on the subtly-shifting eyelids he’d closed just minutes earlier. He looks so young and pretty on the new sheets, sweaty hair and flushed pink skin, and nobody here to see him but Noel. 

Noel leaves the lamp on and holds him close.

☼☼☼

_It’s hard to make my feelings known  
_

_Sometimes I wish for a long wave_

_When I’m waiting for someone to calm my tone_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i have a tendency to write liam a bit soft, and i hope that doesn't make him terribly OOC, but having watched / read as many interviews and knowing so much about him, i don't think it's that crazy. i mean look at how he dressed in the 2000's lol no but seriously, also there's a few interviews with clint boon talking about how liam was always around during noel's roadie days (THATS a whole nother thing to dissect) and he describes him as a bit shy and sheepish. of course liams got that confident cocky Liam-ness to him inherently, but especially as a younger man it makes sense to me he'd have been a bit more reserved, particularly where noel is concerned - he kind of defers to noel oftentimes, even as he banters & fights back against him. paul gallagher said noel was able to shut liam up with a single look. anyway i'm rambling but basically, i write my young liam based on a lot of assumptions, but surely some part of him was this sentimental and romantic, and still is.


	2. saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to wait to post this until i had completed the third chapter but i just coldnt wait jsdfjidf. i have both remaining chapters totally planned and outlined... just need to finish writing the second half of three, & four. anyway- i wrote these chapters in 48 hours so maybe i'll get my momentum on like that again. we'll see lol

First to come, first to sleep, also the first to wake. He wonders if Noel watched him while he slept.

“Good morning.”

Noel’s still asleep.

Liam wears his brother’s bathrobe and makes mint tea on the stove. He gives up on the antenna and lets the TV play static while he eats dry cereal with one hand and drinks a beer with another, perched on the arm of the couch.

“Good morning, Mr. Hedonism.” Noel lights his smoke in the doorway. “Will you be paying the room service bill?”

“Mornin’.”

“Where’s my breakfast?”

“You didn’t place an order.” Liam smirks while he steals Noel’s cigarette, blowing it at the ceiling.

“I shouldn’t have to.” Noel takes it back. “Aren’t you the new live-in maid? They should’ve had you ready with the usual.”

“Make up your mind.” 

It’s fucking liberating, to be able to speak with Noel like this. Liam knows he shouldn’t but he lets himself get lost in the fantasy of living together. Throwing off the robe, he retreats to Noel’s bedroom to get dressed.

His jeans are rough against his bare stomach and he can’t find his socks until he remembers he wasn’t wearing socks anyway.

“What shirt should I wear?”

Noel always liked getting Liam dressed when they were younger. He never really knew why. Maybe it was because Noel and Paul had to dress so similarly for their whole childhoods that once Liam came along, suddenly Noel had a new canvas to experiment on. He would brush Liam’s blonde hair, make sure his face was clean, button up his little shirts and make sure his feet were warm. Noel and Paul might have had to match for the Christmas photo, but little Liam didn’t, and Noel could straighten his tie and kiss his nose.

Maybe it was because Liam was more perfect than he could ever be.

“Show me what you have.”

He’d only brought a few t-shirts and a couple jumpers, expecting to spend a good part of his time here wearing Noel’s clothes, anyway. There’s a couple blue ones, one of them striped, one with the Man City crest; a red one with a pocket, and an old black one with a Beatles logo and a tacky stain on the back.

“No, no- here. Try this.” Noel rifles around in his closet for a bit, digging through things. Liam bites his lip and tries to pretend it’s not exactly what he wanted.

Noel pulls a navy-blue cable knit over Liam’s head, crushing his hair and prickling against his skin.

“Good?”

“Good.”

It’s thick and dark and Liam feels sleek wearing it out of the house. He wonders if he looks like an art student and if Noel would ever want to hold his hand with so many people around.

 

☼☼☼

 

They both wear sunglasses even though it’s not sunny and they’re not hungover. He can’t tell if they look obvious out to everyone on the street. There’s no way of knowing, and no one would ever say. Noel looks good today, though, he can say that at least. He’s got a new flannel, orange and white with brown wooden buttons, and he’d let Liam do each one up this morning in between kisses. It seems kind of pathetic now that they’re down on the street drinking beers and smoking, how they’d been in each other’s arms upstairs. Liam tries to act genuinely at all times but then there’s these moments when he is so blindingly aware of what he’s doing that it’s uncomfortable, and as he gets older it’s clear that time’s running out for him to act this way. He grimaces and wishes it was 1989.

“Where do they keep the birds around here?”

Both of their jeans are medium-blue and the raindrops darken the suede of Liam’s trainers.

“You came all the way to London for a shag?”

“Yeah, man.”

If Liam had been able to look right in Noel’s eyes he’d see how much it was angering him, the pure concept of sharing. Because no matter what, the second Liam’s not in Noel’s bed, he might as well be in anyone else’s. This automatically brands everyone around them as competition. It’s not an easy way to live.

He thinks it’d be fun to be with Noel and a girl at the same time. He lets himself fantasize about it a bit while they walk in silence: the brick walls, him and Noel in only their jeans, a beautiful girl with long blonde hair sitting on his lap. Maybe he could fuck her while he sucked Noel’s cock. God, there’s so many people on the sidewalk and they must be fucking boring, and what would they think of him. Rotten. Noel isn’t saying much and Liam’s sure his mind isn’t nearly as fun to be inside of.

Noel wouldn’t like a girl being there. Wouldn’t like sharing. It’s weird, because he makes a fuss about Liam being with anyone else, but he’ll gladly go out and date a girl on and off for years, have a fling off somewhere on tour, shag somebody’s sister while she’s in town. It’s fine as long as it’s him doing it. It makes no fucking sense.

(And the fact of the matter is, Noel never really loves any of them – not romantically, at least.)

Liam’s not sure about it, but there  _must_ be girls who’d be okay with this. _Into_ it, even. There are 5 billion people on Earth. A girl he’d fucked in secondary school said nobody knew until her grandfather died that he’d had male lovers his whole life. Months later, he’d read in some psychology book in the back of the school library how no one could really estimate the rate of incestuous behavior; how it happened consensually sometimes, and it was more common than anyone would really guess. It had just stopped feeling  _wrong_ at some point and maybe that’s bad. Liam found it hard to separate the fact that it was  _love_ with the rest of it, because it certainly didn’t seem right to group ‘love’ in with ‘wrong’ and ‘bad’. There’s really no easy way to go about it, because the only way for someone to know what they did was okay would be to  _see_ it, see how much they loved each other. And there was the problem. Nobody was allowed to see.

“Liam.”

“What?”

“We’re ‘ere.”

He’d gotten lost in his own thoughts and they were at the store already. It probably isn’t good for him to be out shopping with Noel; somewhere in the back of his mind he’s sure it’s only serving to cement the delusion that they are together.

 

☼☼☼

 

“Get me a spatula from over there.”

“The fuck d’you need that for?”

“What? For making eggs.”

“You’re not some fucking chef.”

“Some of us eat things other than breakfast cereal.”

“Fuckin’ waste of money, this. Let’s go out, man!”

“Liam.” Noel glares at him and takes back the paper towels Liam had unpacked from the trolley. “I fucking  _just_  moved in, right? Need to get fucking shit set up around the house. You’re not deciding what gets bought and not. The only reason you even got to come with is ‘cos if I left you alone in the flat you’d find a way to make a mess ten seconds after I stepped foot out the door.”

“Who fucking invites someone round to make them do errands on their fucking holiday?”

“Will you fucking let up? I need to get these things, it’ll take a fucking half hour, then we can go back to the flat and have something to eat, alright? We’re going out tonight. It’s only eleven, so don’t worry about it.”

“This isn’t any fucking fun-”

“ _Fun?!_  Jesus Christ, Liam- you’re such a fucking child- look, just go out there, having a fucking smoke, and wait outside for me. Can you do that?”

“I’m not a fucking kid!”

“You’re acting like one. Fucking throwing a tantrum in public. Will you pull it together?”

“Fucking- loosen  _up,_ man!”

Noel’s eyes could kill. “I’ll be leaving here when I’m fucking finished, and I’m not going to wait around for you. So tag along or you’ll be having a nice time finding your own way back.”

It’s a bit humiliating to be scolded by his older brother while he’s pushing the trolley down the aisles, but Liam finds it kind of funny, too. Noel could kill him for his smirk.

 

☼☼☼

 

He throws down the bags the second they’re back inside the flat. “What the fuck was all that about?”

“What?”

“It’s not cute, y’know, pullin’ that shit. Every fucking day. It’s- how on  _Earth_ do you expect me to put up with that? Do you think you can fucking act like a brat, and I’ll just fucking pull you aside and punish you, and we just do that over and over for the rest of our lives? I mean, are you really, truly  _mental?_ ”

“It’s not-”

“It’s not a  _joke_  anymore, Liam, we’re going to be fucking hitting it big. You know it as well as I do. So I hope you’re about done with all your little… fucking, shenanigans or whatever, because pretty soon your face doesn’t belong to me, _or_ to you, it belongs to  _them._ ” He gestures abstractly at the window behind Liam.  _How could I forget._

“You act like you’re so perfect.”

“None of this is about me. Alright?  _None_ of it. It’s about  _you,_ and why you think you’ve got the right to stomp all over everything and take it as your own, and why you’re so fucking spoilt rotten that you’re entitled to everything you have. As if you don’t have me to thank.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Oasis is my band, right? Yes. And you’re in it. Now I’m responsible for Oasis- my fucking neck is on the line here. So when you decide-  _let me finish-_ when you decide to start acting like you’re nine years old again, I know you well enough to know you’re gonna do it in every fucking inch of your life, not just where the band is concerned. But you don’t fucking  _get_  it. Things are too big now for you to be making a fool of yourself-”

“I don’t even, I don’t even know what you’re trying to-”

“You won’t let me fucking finish!”

“You’re not saying anything fucking interesting.”

Noel laughs shortly and turns, starting to carelessly unpack the bags they’d carried in from the street. “You might as well gather up your things.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“Do I sound like it?”

“It’s just not that fucking serious all the time, Noel, fuck’s sake! Things are fuckin’ fine, you need to learn how to take it easy-”

His hand is smacked away when he rests it on the back of Noel’s neck, and the plastic bowl Noel was holding hits the wood floor. “Don’t touch me.”

Liam fears fury moving through his body. “Fuck you!”

 _Why does it always end up this way?_ There’s a rubber-band stretched tight around his skull and it feels like it’s going to snap. He wonders why other people are so lucky to exist and not have relationships like this – where every word is a potential misstep and once you’re in, it’s too deep to wade back out. Where you wouldn’t care if your bodies and souls suddenly became one, where you’d do nearly anything he said. Not without a fair big of backtalk, of course. But it’s been so many years; there’s too much to apologize for and Noel wouldn’t be listening anyway. None of it makes any sense.

“I can’t go back in time, Noel.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m, like, sorry if I made you angry in the shop, ‘n that-”

“It’s not just about that. It’s about  _all_ of this. You need to fucking grow up, do you understand?” Noel’s voice is still firm, but it’s quieter. He seems to have softened slightly hearing the word _sorry_ , even if it’s not enough.

“I’m just trying to have some fun.”

“You can have some fun without ruining it for the rest of us.” Noel sighs as he bends to pick up what he’d dropped to the floor. “It’s too fuckin’ early for this.”

Liam frowns and closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall. He wants to put his hand back up, wants to touch Noel, wants to make it okay. Somehow it never is. Somehow he’s always going to need to go back in time and there will never be a way to do it. He’ll stumble over his words and his shoelaces and make jokes that Noel won’t let him take back, and the years always fill mistakes in messy, so the cracks rise to the surface over and over and nothing can lay solid again.

The silence seems to help it a bit. Liam makes a note to remember that. He probably does that every time they fight, but the reminders never seem to come back up when he needs them. Somewhere there is a corkboard in his mind littered with endless I.O.U.s that were never received.

Noel’s nudging his shoulder and when he looks up, there’s a beer in his hand.

“Here.”

Neither of them can be bothered to smile but they clink the necks of their bottles together as if there’s anything worth celebrating.

 

☼☼☼

 

Liam nearly drops the thermometer on the floor while he unpacks the last bag and Noel rushes to pull it from his hands.

“Fucking- be careful. If one of those breaks, it can kill you.”

“I always wondered why. Is it ‘cos it’s got heat in it? Can burn you, right?”

“What?” Noel laughs like he’s stupid. “It’s not- no. It’s mercury.”

“So?”

“Quicksilver. It’s, like, poisonous. Not good to get on your skin.”

“Looks nice, though.”

“Yeah.”

Like us.

☼☼☼

 

“When are we going out?”

“Later. I’ve got things to do here.”

“Like what?”

“I need to restring this guitar.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Aren’t we meant to have people doing that for us, now?”

“We’re not that big yet, darling.”

He props his feet up on the other end of the couch and tries to focus on the television while Noel cuts the old strings off his acoustic behind him.

The only thing worth watching is a few analysts commenting on some football match involving two teams he doesn’t give a fuck about, but he’s not paying much attention to it, anyway. Though he’s not really paying attention to Noel, either. His breath feels loud and foggy inside his ears, and he wonders if he’s got tunnel vision, if everyone’s staring at him and wondering what he’s thinking – who’s everyone, who’s here – Noel swears as he catches the edge of his finger on the wire.

It was too hot when the heat was running earlier so Liam had taken off the jumper, and even though he’s chilly now he’s too comfortable to get up and put something else on again. Besides, he wants to tempt Noel. He hopes it’s working. Sometimes he can’t tell. Because for all he’d like to think that he’s the most charming fucker on the planet and that anyone would lose their mind for a chance with him, sometimes Noel seems to be off chasing greater things. If only he could ever really know for sure.

He bites his lips a lot lately in this attempt. Does it so much that it’s second nature now, sucking them into his mouth when he’s not up to anything else. It keeps them thick and full, pink to red and wet enough for Noel to feel before they’ve even made contact. He wants it to look obscene when his mouth is open, tempting his big brother from across the room. He wants men to look away from their girlfriends to look at him, the way they always have- just because he wants Noel to be there to give them a broken jaw for trying.

At least it’s comforting to know that he’s getting  _better,_ kind of. Or growing up. When he was a teenager those perverse thoughts and fantasies took up a concerning amount of space in his mind. It was still there now, in a smaller and more well-guarded area, though if he’s being honest with himself, the intensity of the feelings have only grown with his age.

Sometimes he gets these disgusting ideas, things he could do that would make him look like a disgrace, but he wonders if Noel would like it. Things he could do to make a scene. It’s a bit fun to imagine what sort of face he’d make if Liam sat a girlfriend down and told her what him and Noel did with each other. Or if they held hands walking down the high street on a Saturday afternoon.

Maybe they’d put a photo of them kissing on the cover of a magazine someday.

“D’you have any weed?”

“Thought I told you to bring that?”

“You didn’t.”

“Could swear I did.”

“Fuck off, Noel, do you?”

“We’ll have it later.”

“I want it now! Come on, I’ll roll it, an’ all.”

His brother sighs and brings him the brown wooden box from under his nightstand. Liam has half a mind to lay on his back and roll it up on his bare belly but he doesn’t push his luck. He works quietly while Noel coils on the new string.

“I’m about to lick it, if you were wantin’ to watch.”

Noel laughs. Liam doesn’t have to open his eyes to know he was already watching.

☼☼☼

 

Laying with his head in Noel’s lap while they smoke, Liam nuzzles into his stomach. It’s hairy and the warmth of the skin against his face is quite welcome in the cold air. He licks teasingly along Noel’s belly button and laughs at the way it makes him squirm.

“Pass it here.”

Shaking his head, Liam smiles coyly and takes another hit off the spliff between his fingers, holding it out of Noel’s reach. Noel snatches it anyway, taking a hit before jerking Liam’s mouth open and crashing their faces together to breathe it down his throat.

Liam coughs a lot and it’s pretty painful but it’s okay. His eyes are watering and he laughs and says  _fuck you_  and tries to stop coughing and laughing at the same time, and Noel’s here, and Noel’s so pretty. He’s so high.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Noel brushes some hair out of his eyes and he feels goose pimples rising on the skin of his forearms. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Let’s do a line.”

“What?” Noel stubs the joint out in the ashtray next to him. “Aren’t you high enough already?”

“I saw you got it in there.” Liam doesn’t blink, keeping his brows raised, a challenge. Noel keeps his coke neatly in two little baggies in a matchbox. Liam felt struck by lightning earlier when he’d opened the box and seen it. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s that sex is quite good for getting free cocaine. Luckily he wants both things from Noel.

“Oh, c’mon. Later in the night, yeah? Fuck’s sake. It’s early still.”

“Please, Noel?” Liam makes his eyes big like a puppy and oh, he’s always known just how to make Noel fall apart. His plush strawberry lips are begging for attention and of course he’s going to get it, he’s Liam fucking Gallagher, he always gets his way.

Noel kisses him, short but deep, making filthy wet noises in the afternoon air. “Well- just… just a bit. And- let me put them out, okay? Don’t want you spilling anything.”

He smiles and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as Noel sits up, reaching towards Liam for the supplies.

“Will you get my wallet out from my coat?”

He chops the lines out thin, and it irks Liam but it only means he’ll have to work a bit harder and sweet talk a little more. He’s itching for it, hasn’t done coke in weeks. It’d been with Noel the last time, anyway. Liam could get it elsewhere but it was always just easier to get it through Noel.

“Here.”

Noel doesn’t have a coffee table; for now, he’s just using an old crate, a couple large books stacked atop it, coins and guitar picks thrown carelessly around. Wiping his nose, he hands the rolled-up tenner to Liam and gestures in front of him.

Their knees touch while Liam leans down to inhale. He loves the scratching of denim against denim, like it’s kicking up his lust, mindless and drunk on it. Noel always seems to find himself both half-hard, and painfully guilty. It’s the way it somehow surreptitiously implies to him the raw longing of a boy kissing another boy. 

Eyes fluttering up a bit, Liam breathes in, letting himself fall back against the sofa. He rolls his head sideways to face Noel, cheek pressed up to the fabric, grinning at his brother as he too collapses down.

“You going to say ‘thank you’?”

“For what?”

“Prick.”

“You know I mean it.”

“How ‘bout you show it?” Noel rests a hand against the back of Liam’s neck and widens his eyes as if he’s playing coy about what he’s really asking.

“Mm…” He closes his eyes to allow Noel the privacy to smile.

Liam’s hands are roaming, and Noel’s are shaking. He grips the guitarist’s wrist, then his upper arm, pulling himself up and over a bit, closer to the warmth of his body, till his breath just barely reaches his chin.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

Noel wouldn’t ever say it, but he likes it when Liam’s gentle. He closes his eyes and feels a smooth palm turning his face, drawing him into a long, deep kiss. The singer mumbles a few  _mmh_ ’s every once in a while, fingers digging into Noel’s cheekbone.

“You’re desperate,” Noel murmurs as he pulls back a bit, running his hand softly through his hair. Liam’s mouth is wet and red and open, trembling a bit.

“ _You_ are.”

Noel grips Liam’s chin in his hand, recognizing the feeling. “Your teeth numb?”

The younger opens his eyes slightly to stare into his brother’s, nodding in sleepy agreement. “‘Nother line?”

“You fuckin’ _just_ had some.”

“Want more,” He growls, leaning in to kiss Noel again. “I wanna fuck for  _ages_.”

(He’s always wanting to fuck for ages, but he never lasts very long. Sometimes Noel has to make him come twice. Mind you, he’s not complaining.)

Noel’s cock hardens bit more, a surge landing right as the word  _fuck_  leaves Liam’s mouth. Liam feels it, too, wrenching Noel’s legs apart and sliding a hand slowly up his inner thigh.

“Jesus, Liam.”

“I’m puttin’ some more out.”

Noel’s mirror is about the size of a paperback, one of the corners misshapen and he doesn’t remember why. Liam can see his eyes in it as he makes sure it’s nice and powdery and fine, and chops out four.

“Your nose is going to be fucking aching tomorrow, you idiot.”

“The coke’s fucking here, why not use it?” It’s as if in Liam’s mind it doesn’t even occur that Noel has spent plenty of money on it, like it’s always just been stocked by Noel as a treat for Liam to enjoy. Together. As if it’s as guaranteed as water coming out of a faucet. “You’ve got vaseline... I know you do.” He wiggles his eyebrows and glances toward the bedroom.

Noel stares and Liam does a line. He tries to say something and Liam switches nostrils. He sighs and Liam gums a bit, sucking on his thumb.

When he lowers his head, it takes him half as much time as Liam. The coke’s barely settled on his gums when he’s pulled back onto the sofa desperately, shoved up against the backrest while Liam hooks a leg over his thigh, spreading his legs open. He moans like a bitch while he kisses Noel in a wet numb sloppy mess, darting his tongue above his brother’s lips to get a zing from the powder lingering in his stubble.

A hand moves up to grip Noel’s leaking cock through his jeans, gently but deliberately. At this, he groans  _fuck_  into Liam’s mouth, forcing himself to pull away.

“Liam... Liam. We’re on the fucking sofa.”

“So what? ‘s nobody else here” He drags the heel of his hand down Noel’s dick, grinning in smug delight at the noise it gets him.

“More comfortable up on the bed…”

“Whatever. It’ll feel just as good out here.”

Liam unbuttons the same shirt he’d put onto Noel earlier, tugging it off his shoulders, sighing at the beautiful warmth of his brother’s bare skin. His biceps are toned, still thin but not stick-skinny like he’d been back before he’d joined the band, looking well-fed. Just perfect if Liam was being honest. Of course, he’d never have settled for less.

He leaves restless lovebites against Noel’s sternum, reveling in the mindless sounds he gets in return, dull nails leaving crescents against the back of his ribcage. He rocks their hips together until finally their cocks meet through too many layers of denim and Liam curls himself into Noel with a low, helpless groan.

“I know what you wanna do.”

“Touch me, Noel, fuck.”

“Not yet. I know what you wanna do. Yeah?”

“Come on-”

“You wanna suck my cock?”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. I know you do.”

“Don’t-  _fuck._ ” Liam gasps and bucks his hips in an uneven rhythm, body rolling with need. Noel forces a hand into the back pocket of his trousers and uses it to pull the younger man against him desperately.

“Get to work,” Noel hisses, pushing Liam down towards the ground smoothly but firmly.

It’s cold outside but Noel’s skin is fucking burning. Liam feels like he’s going fucking insane, rubbing his face against his brother’s abdomen as he slides down, it’s so good, it’s so so so good. There’s a numbing buzz slithering down his throat and he feels like he’s fucking dreaming, doesn’t know how it’s possible to feel so lovely.

“You want it so bad, don’t you,” Noel murmurs, brushing fingertips through his hair and  _God,_ why does he do this, treat him like he’s so fucking special sometimes, why does he do it if he’s not gonna do it all the time? Noel makes him stupid, Noel makes him act how he shouldn’t, he should be ashamed of himself. But he nods anyway and looks up through his lashes, zipper down and button open, one-handed without even glancing at it.

There’s a wet spot on the front of Noel’s boxers, near the top of his left thigh where his dick’s straining against the soft fabric. Liam loves it, he doesn’t care, he fucking loves it, he never expected himself to want to fuck men but here he is. It doesn’t even matter. It seems like he just gets everything he wants, in the end, and he’s going to be famous and he’ll do it with his brother’s dick down his throat. He loves how hard Noel is because it proves how important Liam is. How Noel wants him bad enough to have his body physically  _change._ Noel can’t even control it; it’s something he can’t possibly hide.

He loves fucking in the daylight. It’s just the same – no hiding. No denying. This visit has been a bit weird, and it’s not like everything they do isn’t weird, but it’s been tense. At the same time, the good moments have been  _really_ good. At least it’s not boring. He’ll take what he can get. Right now Noel’s not denying anything, and really, that’s all that matters.

“Did you miss it?”

“What?”

“My mouth on your cock.” He does it agonizingly slowly, but he starts to take down Noel’s boxers, trying desperately to contain his excitement because that’s not very cool. Teasing is fun, though. “You want it more than I do.”

“Not possible.”

“Whatever.” The skin is really smooth. “Do you get this hard for other people?” It’s something he thinks about more than he’d like to, but the troublesome fears about possession and loss never really seem to go away and they probably never will.

“Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“Is that a  _no_?”

“Liam.” Noel doesn’t like when he does this, and Liam knows it, and it’s exactly that stubbornness that’s going to bring the both of them to ruin.

“I can read your fucking mind anyway, Chief. Remember that.”

“You fucking wish.” Noel grimaces, pushing his pants out of the way and shoving Liam’s head down a little bit. “Haven’t you got something to be doing right now?”

“Looks like it hurts, how hard you are for me sometimes.” Teasing is fun and talking like this is fun, too, it’s all a fucking laugh, really. He’s not a slag but he might as well act like one, if it gets Noel going – it’s not like he can  _tell_ anyone about it. “Does it, Noel? Hurt how much you want me?”

“You’re fucking mad.” He’s smiling though, he loves Liam,  _he loves me,_ he loves getting high with him and he lets him sleep in his bed and suck his dick and sing his songs.

“We’re gonna fuck all over the world.”

“Are we now?”

“Yeah.”

“We have already.”

“Not everywhere. I wanna do it  _everywhere._ ”

“I fucked you in Paris.” His eyes close gently and there’s just a hint of a smile on his lips. “Did you ever think we’d do that?”

“Which thing?”

“Fucking hell.” It’s a privilege to be good with your tongue, Liam thinks. It’s funny how his mouth is everything at once – the thing that makes him money; the thing that gets him in trouble, in the papers and with those around him, and the thing that keeps Noel entranced. He’s asked himself before if Noel likes his personality or his looks better, even though that’s a stupid, girly thing to wonder, but he supposes the two can’t really be separated. You could say the same about him and Noel themselves.

He puts Noel in his mouth and lets himself cherish it. Half of our brains are leftovers from the primal ages, stupid monkeys who exist to eat and hunt and fuck, and modern-day humans are lucky enough to be half-civilized but we’re all just animals, at the end of the day. Surnames didn’t exist in caveman times. But brothers did. Kissing your brother was never a sin until God got involved.

 _Cain and Abel probably tried it out,_ he thinks, and wants to slap himself for the thought.

“Isn’t this better than fighting?”

Noel smells good from his post-shopping shower, like coconut and some sort of vaguely masculine cologne. Maybe he’s thinking like a lovesick girl, but when the two of them are together it always feels deliciously masculine – sweaty and testosterone-fueled. He can’t understand why people make fun of gay lads like they’re weak and wimpy, because as far as he can tell, there’s nothing more manly than, well, _two_   _men._

Denim on denim and cigarette fingertips and four o’clock shadow; Noel is no woman. Even when he’s pretty and gentle and soft like one, more than he’d ever admit, even though his feet are small and his lashes long and he’s kind and sometimes  _romantic,_ he’s such a man, and Liam loves it. If only Noel could be so honest with himself. Because Liam’s no woman, either.

He always found it fun to mess around with boys; his faith in religion had been dashed years before by the horrors his father inflicted and the way the church told his mother to just stay and take it. Once you fucked off that forbidden bit of  _we shouldn’t_ and let it become a nice, naughty secret, it was great, just so different to being with girls, even though that was amazing as well. He just can’t get enough of it, any of it. Boys are rough like wrestling and smoke and stiff lager and Liam sometimes loves the smell of evergreen and gasoline.

“That’s it... fuck, kid.”

So fucking smooth. Even the tip feels big in his mouth. He’s always thought Noel was the perfect size, it’s not unrealistic like some of the men in pornos but it’s a challenge. A welcome one. Liam’s wasn’t quite as big but usually girls couldn’t get it down their throat to the base. He’s not always able to take it all the way, sure – it’s more difficult than it looks – but Liam likes to think he’s pretty good. It’s only natural; he wants as much of Noel as he can get in him at all times.

“You’re so fucking good, Liam.”

“Mmmmm.” He loves hearing Noel say his name.

“C’mon.” Calluses feel heavenly against the sensitive nape of Liam’s neck, reminding him of Noel’s guitar, and that music runs through their veins and everything they do; his voice and Noel’s hands, their blood and their love and fighting and scarlet red like fury and the human heart. It’s not even like he’s some whore, Noel’s not using him, Noel’s pleasing him, giving him the things that make him whole. If only he was more consistent.

“Want you to fucking come for me.”

“Keep it up and you will.”

“You- you make me fucking... fucking miserable.” He’s fucking drooling over his hand around the base of Noel’s cock, soaking the skin between his fingers and his brother’s waist, spit and precum indistinguishable at this point. One time he shone a torch at Noel’s fingertips in the dark melancholy of their Burnage bedroom and looked at each one, then his own, the swirls and loops and whorls like he’d seen in his science textbook. They weren’t exactly the same, but some of them were.

Even their left ring fingers.

“What?”

“Like- it’s fucking torture, Noel. And don’t tell me I’m stupid.” He moves down to get one of Noel’s balls into his mouth, and whenever he does this he thinks somewhere in the back of his head it should disgust him, sweaty like a football match, like a locker room. But then again, he likes locker rooms. It’s where he’d learned some of his favorite things.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not being with you.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Noel rolls his eyes but his leg twitches; he likes the attention Liam’s giving him. Sometimes he tells Liam he’s fucking cheesy, like a romance novel – but why shouldn’t he be? Certainly not everyone on Earth has a story like theirs. Might as well indulge in it, let themselves be silly hedonists, as long as the universe, or whatever controlled it, was giving them the chance.

Working every bit of Noel he can touch, Liam lets his tongue hang out against the tip, hand massaging the shaft while his eyes close, lazy from the pleasure. He’s trying so hard not to touch himself – Noel would scold him for that. They don’t do it a lot because it’s a bit much, but Noel’s certainly not above giving him a spanking. He fumbles with his trousers, finding it far too difficult to get the fly undone, but they’re the only pair he’d brought and he’s going to make a mess in them if he doesn’t act soon. 

“Fucking filthy boy.” Noel strokes the hollow between his neck and collarbone with caring thumbs. “Turns you on, doesn’t it.”

“Are you close?” He gets his own cock in the palm of his hand and shivers a bit.

“Are you tired?” Smirking, Noel tilts his jaw just a bit, pushing in further. Liam could just die. He wants to be Noel’s forever.

He’d answer but it’s not exactly possible at the minute. Every bit of space not occupied by his own cells is filled with Noel’s and that’s how it’s fucking supposed to be, he knows it. An impatient whine rips itself from his throat, vibrating around Noel’s cock just the way he likes. It’s good, really good. Noel’s belly is sweaty and warm, so warm, he’s sunshine all for Liam, sweeter than anybody knows.

Liam’s orgasm comes completely unannounced, landing on the wood floor and coating his aching hand. Stupid nonsense words spill out of his stuffed-full mouth and he’s fucking possessed, and somewhere Noel’s stroking his head, calling him a good boy, spoiling him rotten. He always makes his big brother proud.

“I’m close. Fucking- _yes_. Don’t stop. C’mon, baby.”

Whimpering at the sweet name, at Noel’s hands in his hair, Liam tightens his lips, preparing for the fast-approaching mess Noel’s gonna make inside his mouth, down his throat. This is the best part, when all of Noel’s muscles start tightening up, when his rhythm starts to falter, useless animal. Perspiration soaks his lovely dark hair and the half-bitten desperate noises he makes should leave him ashamed.

“Come for me,” Liam mumbles distantly, “say my name.” It’s probably gibberish but they both know what he means, anyway.

“Li- fuck. _Liam._ ” Noel pulls his hair; he tastes good, sweet and bitter, thick and it spills out of the corners of Liam’s mouth a little and who knows whose moans are whose. Someday he hopes they go on holiday to a tropical island somewhere, and he can find out if it’s true what they say in women’s magazines, if mangoes and pineapple can make your cum taste better. They could drink smoothies in bed all day and make a whole experiment out of it.

 _I’m fucking lost in you_. Liam swallows every precious drop.

☼☼☼

 

They sleep but not for very long, maybe forty-five minutes. Liam wakes to humid air against his temple and it tickles and makes him laugh and kick around against Noel, half on top of him on the narrow sofa.

“C’mon. Get up, you.”

“Wh’time’s it.”

Noel’s hair is matted against his face on one side and it makes Liam smile. “Uh… five twenty-five. Christ. We’ve got, like, an hour and a half.”

“D’they know you’re bringin’ your boyfriend with?” He laughs while Noel pushes his face down against the cushion.

 

☼☼☼

 

“It’s a party, not a fucking wedding.” Noel digs around on the shelf behind Liam’s head. “You’re not my _date_.”

“Really? I thought we were goin’ to the school formal. Already rented me tuxedo.”

“Christ.” He swats at Liam where he’s blocking access to everything Noel needs to get at. “Will you fucking move? I seriously don’t know how you manage to be in the fucking way at all possible moments.”

It makes Liam laugh, sitting up on the bathroom counter – nearly in the bowl of the sink, really, veering back and forth to interfere with Noel’s movements. He runs his hand down his big brother’s chest, trying to find his heartbeat. Noel’s got a brown leather jacket on over his shirt, now, contrasting nicely with his skin.

Noel sighs at the feeling of Liam’s fingertips on his chest. “Thank God you didn’t leave those marks higher, fuck’s sake. You really need to stop doing that.”

“Why? It turns you on.” Liam pushes his thumb against one of the marks, getting a huff for it.

“I’m twenty-seven.” He finally gets Liam to hop down, closing the mirror of the medicine cabinet and moving his hair around a bit.

“I’m twenty-seven,” Liam mocks in a quiet singsong voice, leaning against the doorway and gazing lovingly at Noel. Sometimes, and he hates to admit it, but sometimes, he feels real fucking naughty, it’s so wrong, Noel’s so grown-up. He can see why girls like it, really. It’s fun to be the young, pretty one on his arm.

He dresses like it too – grown-up – button-down, smart jacket, tan trousers, brown leather shoes, dark square shades. _Hey Look At Me I’m A Responsible Heterosexual Man._ It’s kind of a desperate effort but God, he looks good doing it. In itself this act is hopelessly gay, Liam thinks, smirking a bit to himself.

“Well, laugh it up, get it out of the way now, I suppose. I’m fucking warning you, you need to be on your best behavior tonight. D’you understand?”

“It’s a fucking party. Are there _rules?_ What, are you gonna make me wear a leash or something? Pervert.” He pokes playfully at Noel’s torso but his hand is knocked away again.

“I told you this already, there’s going to be people from the label there,” Noel closes his eyes, sighing dramatically, “people you’ve never met. Guess what? Right now, they know you from the papers. They know you from the fucking _ferry_. Alright? Not a great reputation. Your job – well, _our_ job – is to show them there’s nothing to worry about.”

“What is this, some kind of fucking spy mission? Infiltrating minds? I thought we were going to get fucking drunk and pull birds.”

“See? That’s it. That’s exactly it.” Noel’s jaw is set stubbornly, glaring at himself in the mirror while he adjusts a little enamel pin against the lapel of his jacket. “ _First_ of all, no fucking- _pulling birds._ There will be women, professional women- _not like that-_ at this event, believe it or not, ones with much more authority than you. So you’re not going to be fucking putting your hands on anyone. And that includes me, right- that’s point two. None of this- none of this _flirting,_ or whatever. You can save it for when we’re back in the flat, alright? I’m not going to keep you from a few drinks, y’know, enjoy yourself an’ that, but you might as well be on the clock right now.”

“On the- _on the clock?!_ I’m not some fucking laborer. I’m not even getting _paid_.”

“You’ve been taking my drugs, eating my groceries, using my water, sleeping in my flat…” Noel kisses him tenderly but briefly on the cheek as he exits the room. “Consider it a rent payment.”

 

☼☼☼

 

Whoever owns this venue seriously needs to invest in better air fresheners. The place reeks of sweat, and the endless surge of bodies isn’t helping one bit.

Everybody here’s a bit fucking boring. It’s not the type of party Liam likes best – sure, three-quarters of the people here are probably wasted off their tits but there’s certainly not white powder littering all the tables. No birds will be dancing topless tonight.

It’s laughably easy to tell who the corporate types are, trying to pass as hip and casual just because they’ve got jeans on. Noel’s behaving like a fucking prick, schmoozing with the best of them, and Liam feels obliged to make a scene if only to shut him up. Acting up has never been all that difficult.

“Liam?”

“Yeah, hi.” Noel looks kind of adorable when he’s angry, Liam thinks. A vein’s sticking out pronounced against the side of his neck, mouth a tight line.

“Who’s your friend?” Nodding at the pretty redhead with blue eyeshadow, Noel gives her a look of disdain the poor girl doesn’t deserve.

“Susan.”

The bird glares at Liam, annoyed. “ _Cheryl._ ”

“Yeah, Cheryl.” Liam slides his arm around her tiny waist. “She’s a singer.”

“Oh, aren’t we all.” Rolling his eyes, Noel grips his brother by his elbow. “Will you excuse us for a minute?”

Cheryl wanders off, her eyelids wagging from God knows what substances. It’s only nine but the youth of the party seem to think it’s half-one in the morning.

“What did I fucking tell you earlier?”

“I’m not doing anything, will you fucking relax? I’ll get her number or something, right. Who’s that hurting?”

“How much have you had to drink?” Noel leans in, smelling Liam’s breath between them. “Were you doing shots?”

“Whatever.” Liam yanks his arm out of reach. “You might as well take a hint, have a couple yourself, yeah? Find a girl to shag?”

“Where are _you_ expecting to shag, exactly? Gonna fuck some girl in your brother’s bed?”

“You’re welcome to join us.” He smirks, mouth dropping open a little when Noel moves his hand to grasp at the singer’s side.

“I don’t want to see you with her again tonight. Do you understand?” When he gets no response, he tightens his hand, making Liam gasp.

“Y-yes.”

It’s so fun to make him angry but it’s fucking scary sometimes too, the real venom in his eyes.

“Good.” Noel lets go and turns on his heel, retreating to find some fake friend to waste his conversation on. Or to be a hypocrite and powder his noise in the toilets.

Liam has half a mind to wonder if all this scolding and control is really about the label and his public image, or if it’s all a façade, and Noel’s just as immature and incapable of sharing as Liam himself.

He’s got a fair guess.

☼☼☼

 

They head back around eleven-thirty. Noel doesn’t seem to be all that angry, so maybe their disagreement wasn’t so serious after all; either way, their fighting is always, always buzzing a bit in the background, waiting to surface again, crackling like electricity and maybe it’s part of the reason that their whole fucked-up relationship is so fun, so exciting and _dangerous_ , like a racecar on an open track, seatbelts off; but God, it fucking _hurts._

He still gets punished, though, pushed flat on his stomach on the bed while Noel swats his backside till it’s flushed carnation-pink and Liam’s eyes are watering into the blankets. It’s not too hard; Liam knows he earned it, and really, it doesn’t feel so bad.

Noel flips him over and thrusts himself against his thigh, holding Liam’s hand there under his own to stimulate himself – only because he knows Liam likes it that way, has done it before – until he comes in a wet rush, soiling Liam’s only pair of trousers and groaning out beautiful, guttural noises. Disappointingly, he doesn’t bother to finish the younger man off.

Liam sleeps on the couch.

☼☼☼

 

_Two human beings_

_I’m upset, you’re upset, what’s to be done?_

_Two human beings_

_I’m a mess, you’re a mess, what’s to be done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is there anything prettier than liam with a dick in his mouth? (ᵔᴥᵔ)


End file.
